05-13-06 @ 8:38 am EDT

I'm exhausted and listless and don't feel much like typing this or anything. -_- It takes effort just to drag myself around to do things. Partly because I started, but also because I just don't feel like doing anything at all. Yesterday I wasted most of the day just sitting and staring off into space. I did do some reading, and finish a book, but I didn't feel like typing, or proofing, or even writing...I did only 3kb out of the 10kb I try to do daily, before getting stuck and just not being able to continue. More and more often lately it feels easier to just not write at all, or slack off, and the guilty feeling I always used to get when I missed even a day doesn't seem as strong. It just doesn't seem worth any of the effort. So I gave up and went to sit on the couch until 1:30 when Ma was supposed to come home from work, and tried reading my next book, but got through all of one paragraph before being able to do nothing but just stare at the trees outside. Even tonight, almost a day later, I sat and dozed upright more than actually reading or anything. That's all I really feel like doing is sleeping, even before I was tired. This is that feeling I didn't want to get, simply not caring about anything. I hate this feeling. -_-

Ma was nearly late to get home so that worried me...but then when we got there, the therapist was somewhat late, so... :/ I understand it happens, but it gets me so anxious. Every time a door opens I feel dread. Some guy came barging into the waiting room once, whistling cheerily, did something at the window, then left again, whistling all the way. Doors opening and closing. A phone started ringing and I don't think anybody ever answered it. She finally called me in and the first thing she said was, "Do you remember the way to my office?" >_< I am the lousiest with directions...and to get to her office, it's like you first go RIGHT, then LEFT, then LEFT again, then RIGHT...I shook my head and made a face so she had to lead the way and I know that if I'd gone, I'd have walked into the wrong person's office. I wonder why she asked me that or if I inconvenienced her because she had to do something. Anyway, I feel very stupid describing how it went yesterday but I told myself to try to keep track of these if I can... -_- My memory seems to be dreadful lately though and I can only put things together in pieces. Firstly she asked a few things about how the session with the psychiatrist went, and how the medication was doing, to which I could only shrug and say I notice no difference. That's expected since I haven't been taking it even a week yet, but it's getting there, and this drug is usually supposed to kick in at about 1-2wks. Even if I did feel less depressed I don't see a point to it because that's what the meds I was on did before, made me feel less depressed, but that was it; nothing else changed. I keep looking at this whole experience as, go in, finish the therapy, get out, and then go back to the way I've been for the past decade. I hold no hope of changing. It just seems like something to get out of the way.

I can't recall what she asked after that...but not too long into it she asked if I was still writing. -_- I forgot to say, I'd decided not to bother bringing the thing I typed up explaining how I can't open up to people anymore because then I always lose touch with them. Why bother? It didn't matter. Just sit and answer her questions and get it over with. I'm starting to get stuck here, not wanting to continue. -_- I nodded and shook my head at a few preliminary questions I guess...I don't remember the order this went in, but I guess she eventually asked me to just talk about my writing. That's an open-ended question, and you know already I can't respond to those. Especially not to this one, because I just can't talk about my writing with people anymore. It's a conditioned response by now to just clam up when people say, "So, tell me about your writing." There's so MUCH of it, and it's so BORING, that I can't respond. Even if I did still have the will to respond, asking me about my writing is pretty much like saying, "So, tell me about the universe." Where do you even start??

I must have looked utterly stupid because I shrank right in on myself and squeezed my eyes shut and started shaking and crying right then. -_- I finally managed, "I can't talk about it." Which must have made it sound like some kind of HORRIFIC THING--the only people who ever say, "I can't talk about it," are kids talking about how somebody touched them funny, or a woman whose husband beat her, or some such. I wanted to explain that I didn't mean it THAT way, but I already looked stupid enough, why bother. Every few seconds I just wished the session was over already. The heat seems to be cranked way up in that place and I was sweating already.

"Why can't you talk about it?" she asked.

>_< I HATE having to give answers that involve explanation! And how was I to explain what had originally taken up five typed pages?? I could not go into my huge long history of all the people who promised me their attention and then bailed out. How do you summarize that? I tried a few times to talk but all I could do was make little noises. Finally I said something like, "Every time I talk to people I never hear from them again." Not exactly correct, but I couldn't think of another way to summarize the past six years of never hearing back from so many people. I don't recall exactly how this went, but I guess I eventually explained a bit that people just don't get back to me, I don't know. When she asked who I meant I said people online. It made me feel like a moron that all my experience is tied up in people online. It feels pathetic to rely on online people and to feel so hurt when you're let down. I guess I'm coming to believe what people used to keep snapping at me several years ago every time I got upset--"It's just online, it's not real!" It's just online people, they're not "real"--of course you can't rely on them.

Her: "Of course, online's somewhat different from real life..."

Me: *kind of shrug, kind of nothing*

"Well, I can safely tell you that I'm here, and you can talk to me, and I won't just disappear. Do you believe that?"

"Lots of people have said that and didn't mean it."

"So you're afraid of being rejected...?"

*kind of shrug*

"I'm here right now, and you can talk to me. You can come see me when you need to, or call me..."

"This is your job."

"That's right; I think that gives it a kind of safety, so you know I'll be here."

*trying to clarify since she misunderstood* "You have lots of other patients."

"I do, but this hour's for you."

"But I have to stop seeing you in a year."

"Who said this...?"

"You did."

"Well, we can see each other longer than that if you want to."

*silence, because I don't want to inconvenience her any more than I already am*

My order of all these is probably way off since my memory is so bad; I have to keep pausing and sitting here and racking my brain trying to figure out how this all went. Anyway, the subject went back to my writing again, stupidly enough. You know, I used to fantasize that I would be in therapy someday and the therapist would ask me all sorts of fascinated questions about my writing. So that's why this all strikes me as so humiliating now, because it's like that fantasy is playing out, and I'm so embarrassed I can't even play along.

"When you were still in school, did people like your writing?"

"They said it was good, but nobody ever had time to read much of it."

"How about your parents...?"

*shakes head*

"What about your brother?"

*shakes head*

"I would be interested in seeing some of it..."

*shrinks in on self and starts crying again*

"Do you think you could let me see some of it?"

*very long pause while I try talking but can only make stupid sounds* "There's too much of it."

"Maybe you could bring in just part of it...?"

"It's too long and boring."

I was really really uncomfortable so she kind of switched gears. "Are you still working on the story with the character you told me about last time?"

*nods*

"Do you write any other sorts of things?"

"Some...Egyptian mythology stuff...and some other things...but I don't work on them as much." Sorry, Damien. You too, Ameni.

"So you like the Egyptian mythology and culture...?"

*nods*

"What is it that you like most about it?"

"The animals."

"You like animals?"

*nods*

"Do you have any pets?"

"A cat and a hamster."

"I think you told me that...animals are good friends."

*nods*

"Your other story that you mentioned, I forget the name of the character you told me about...?"

"Charmian."

"Sharmian?"

*squirming* "In the story they pronounce her name 'Charm-ian.'"

"Did you work on this story today?"

*guiltily* "I couldn't write as much as I usually do."

"How long have you been working on this story?"

"Since 2001." I didn't get to clarify that this is in fact three stories so far, just in the same series. Oh well, who cares.

"So you've been working on that for quite a long time now. Can you tell me some more about it?"

*clams up and starts crying and shaking again* Cripes...she must think talking about my writing is the most traumatic thing on Earth now. -_-

*pause* Her: "What did you write today?" (Is she picking up on how I can't answer open-ended questions...?)

There was a very very long pause here because there were numerous ways to answer this. But I did not want to go into detail. I had been trying to work on Part 126. In it, Charmian and the others are heading west but have come to a large river. They sense something to the north--a powerful spirit, as Little Wind puts it--so Charm, Manabozho, Mani, Singing Cedars, and Cedars's two okis are going north to investigate. Once there I plan to have them run into the spirit Wisakedjak. BUT...there's no way in hell I could explain all of that. So I just said, "Part 126."

Her: "So it looks like you're already well through this story?"

*nods*

"What happens in Part 126?"

*silence*

"Is your character, Charmian, in this part?"

*nods*

"And what is she doing?"

>_< "Heading north."

"North...? From home? You said she lived in Petoskey..."

"She does, but that's not where she is right now." God, I must sound like the world's most evasive idiot...

"So she's traveling...?"

*nods*

"Is she on some kind of journey?"

*nods*

"So this story is kind of like a fantasy or something like that...?"

*nods*

"Has she journeyed and done things like this before?"

*nods* Again, I didn't mention this being the third series.

"Is anyone with her?"

*nods*

"Who's with her?"

Well...Manabozho, Mani, Singing Cedars, and two okis! But how the hell do I say all THAT?? So I just said, "Manabozho."

"I take it this is a 'he'...?"

*nods*

"And who is this Manabozho?"

I really had to think hard to try to describe HIM. >_< "An Ojibwa spirit." Close enough, I guess.

"So he's a Native American?"

o_o;; Never thought of putting it that way before; now I felt REALLY stupid. What's stupid white girl doing writing about Native Americans? I just nodded.

"Is anyone else with her?"

>_<;; Ugh... "A manitou and an Iroquois." Screw the okis, I had no clue how to even explain any of this.

"And are they Native Americans too...?"

"One of them." Well, kind of...Cedars is an Indian...but Mani is an Indian SPIRIT...so...whatever. You try explaining five years' worth of writing in a couple of minutes.

"And why are they heading north?"

"They sensed an evil spirit."

"An evil spirit...?"

*nods, feeling INCREDIBLY BEYOND STUPID by now*

"So they run into trouble on these adventures they have...?"

*nods*

"What do they run into trouble with?"

"Evil spirits and demons and things." UGH, I'm such a loser geek. -_-

"What do these evil spirits try to do?"

"Stop them...and try to kill them..." Well, currently they're planning to flood the world and bla bla bla bla, that's the gist of it, stop them and kill them.

"From the sound of it Charmian has some help in these stories."

*nods*

"Does she usually solve these problems and make it through?"

*nods*

"So it's a good overcoming evil type of thing...do you believe that ever happens?"

*pause* "In fiction." Never even mind all my Jungian ideas about the necessity of evil, how good can't exist without it, the Shadow, shades of gray, the balance of things, bla bla bla, bla bla bla bla...

"Does it ever happen in real life?"

*shrug* "Sometimes."

"Is this story going to have a happy ending?"

I had to pause and think, because a lot of nasty shit is going to happen, but basically, yeah, I guess it has a happy ending. It's hard to explain such things though. The ending of RTMI involved the death of a main character, and two main characters becoming lost spirits. And that was a happy ending. More like kind of bittersweet ending or something. I don't know, didn't feel like explaining. So I just nodded.

"What about your own life, do you think it'll have a happy ending...?"

I began shrinking in on myself and crying again. I shook my head. It's really, really embarrassing to compare my real life to a fictional story; I prefer to keep the two strictly separate. I imagine and fantasize, yes, but in those I'm always one of my characters, never ME doing things my characters do. I never fantasize the circumstances of my life being fantastic--not anymore. And the thought that here I am, sitting and writing a girl going out battling evil spirits while all I do is sit at home and cower from my own fears, is just an utterly idiotic one. I hate the two being compared. Like Charmian fighting evil spirits is symbolic of me fighting my fears? Whatever. Not true. I gave up that kind of symbolism long ago when I kicked myself out of my own fiction once and for all.

So once the conversation took this turn I felt very uncomfortable again. Fortunately there wasn't much to it, but I still felt so stupid.

Her: "If you could defeat one evil spirit, or one thing in your own life, what would it be...?"

Me: *without even having to think* "Lack of confidence."

She said that sounded like a good one. Not that it'll ever happen. -_-

She asked me about any progress I'd made trying to make eye contact, firstly with my mother. -_- I truthfully said, "I can make eye contact with her when I'm feeling okay, but when I'm not, I just can't." There was a very awkward few moments here when she asked me about when I "felt okay" versus when I didn't feel okay, and I had no clue how to answer because...well...I just have no answer. It's just something that happens. All I could say was, most of the time I don't feel okay. Like in the evenings when I'm up and Dad or Dad and Ma are home, I usually feel okay. But when I log off and go to my room around 3AM every night, I suddenly feel like shit and end up crying most of the time. No real reason. It just happens.

Her: "Do you think you could make eye contact with me?"

>_< This again...I did not want to. Not in the least. But I felt that if I refused like I had the last time, she'd accuse me of not even trying. I kept trying to lift my eyes but kept crying harder and harder...she asked me why I was afraid of looking up, I think, and I said it's because I look stupid--I make stupid faces. It's true. When humiliated, I tend to smile. A VERY uncomfortable smile. Even while I was sitting here sobbing my eyes out, I know that if I'd managed to look up at her I would have SMILED in this idiotic way before bursting into tears again. It's almost like an "apology-smile," like, "Sorry for being so stupid." I noticed I did this in my very first interview with the guy from SSA. When I got lost on my way out of his office, that goofy sorry-smile came to my face and I had to hide it, even while feeling like punching myself. It's so embarrassing because I'M NOT HAPPY IN THE LEAST when I'm doing it! It's like a reflex motion of some sort; I can't control it.

Well, I kept trying to drag my eyes up to meet hers and kept dropping them again. "You're getting closer," she said, but I just couldn't do it. -_- I'd been using my paper towel like crazy and it was thoroughly used by now but I still kept clenching it in my hand; at last I clasped it over my mouth and nose, shielding them. She misunderstood the motion and asked, "Would you like a tissue--?" I shook my head, eyes squinched shut, and kept my nose and mouth covered and dragged my eyes slowly up again...took a split-second peek at her...then dropped my stare again and started letting out weird noises, I was so embarrassed. You know what? She didn't look at all like what I'd imagined.

"That's a start," she said.

She commenced asking me questions and making out a list of things I find anxiety inducing, in order from least to most frightening. All were based on the specific fear of communicating with people. The list included such things as talking on the phone, ordering in a restaurant, making eye contact for thirty seconds (!!), making conversation, etc. She gave me the list and instructed me to take note of the date whenever I should find myself doing one of the things on it. I feel lousy because I imagine no reason for me to be doing any of these things...Ma and I went out to eat afterwards, and I didn't order my food... -_- ...but I don't know what else to say. It looks to be based on the idea of doing something enough times until you're used to it; but I know already that this doesn't seem to work. I've done some of these things before when I had to, for example, as I told her, talking on the phone when there's an issue involving a bill or a power outage or something. I told her that I'd scheduled the initial appointment with them because they wouldn't talk to my mother. What I didn't get to say was how after EVERY single call I ended up sobbing and shaking and feeling like shit. No matter how many times I've done it, it never gets easier. E-mailing people was included on the list. That hasn't gotten easier. Anybody reading this knows how I am with responding even online, and that was listed as one of the EASIEST things to do. -_- So if this is her idea, I don't imagine it working. Even if I somehow managed to hold a conversation with somebody today (WHATEVER), the rest of the day--and the next week--for months afterward--I would spend agonizing over how stupid I must have been, all the things I did wrong, how I should have just shut up, etc. And it wouldn't make the next conversation easier.

I hate how this is pulling me two ways at once. On the one hand, the therapists, wanting me to get better, on the other hand, SSA, for whom I shouldn't get better. -_- I did this simply for the disability case, but I feel awful not at least trying for the benefit of the therapists. Not that my efforts are worth much. Ma read the list later on (she isn't included in the sessions) and thought it was funny--"'Make eye contact with therapist for thirty seconds. Make eye contact with therapist for a minute. Order lunch--'! We went to Subway! You could've done that there!" I feel like a moron that something as simple as making eye contact for thirty seconds, something most people take for granted, is just impossible for me. -_-

When she gave me the list, she asked that I bring in a chapter of my story. -_- I feel so stupid. Not only for the obvious reason, but because when she asked how long chapters are, I miscalculated and gave her only half the estimate. So it's TWICE as long as I told her. I'll have to apologize to her and explain that when I hand it over, and make sure to let her know she doesn't have to read it because it's too long. I'm so stupid, I wish I'd thought better. Charmian doesn't even appear in the first chapter, and I know it will make no sense whatsoever out of context of the first two serials. Who cares, she won't be reading the rest anyway.

She asked if I had anything else and I did get to raise a question that's been worrying me, regarding the Lexapro. It says a rare possible side effect is agranulocytosis. The psychiatrist mentioned this too. Agranulocytosis is a very serious blood disorder and can be fatal. NO, I'm not worried about getting it, since it's very rare. I read about this in college. The schizophrenia medication clozapine can cause this, and so patients have to get their blood checked every week and then every two weeks as long as they're taking it, and the process gets VERY expensive. Ma informed me that she will have to pay for the bloodwork I have to get! :*( I don't WANT her having to pay for this stuff! I figured that if Lexapro can cause agranulocytosis, what if they have to regularly check my blood??--I can't afford that! If it's so, then I refuse to keep taking this medication. Ma and I bickered over this. It made no sense to me because this side effect is listed for the ENTIRE FAMILY of SSRIs, which includes Prozac--and I never got my blood monitored while taking Prozac. So either they DON'T regularly check your blood, or they've learned more since then? I asked the psychologist if I would need regular bloodwork done and she wasn't sure but said she didn't think so, and she would look into it to make sure. "Is that a scary thought?" she asked, evidently thinking I didn't want to go get my blood drawn. Which is TRUE, since needles make me pass out (no lie), but that's nothing compared to what I was really worried about, the cost. So I told her that was why and she nodded and said she would look into it. And thanked me for asking the question.

At least I didn't get lost on the way out... -_-

In the waiting room I briefly and mistakenly made eye contact (that's the only way I do it, is by mistake >_< ) with some woman seated there, then with a man who was standing nearby and then a little girl standing near the wall...AAAGGHH, I should just not look anywhere!! >_< We scheduled the next appointment for week after next (since she's fully booked next week...too busy...I'm one small blip in a neverending line of patients) and left and then Ma informed me that that woman was Emily, somebody I'd known in high school...CRIPES!! What is my f**king luck RUNNING INTO ALL THESE PEOPLE IN A MENTAL HEALTH CLINIC?? It didn't even LOOK like her--I just looked at her and looked away! -_- I must have seemed like such a bitch. At first I didn't believe this because that girl didn't seem right--Emily had been pregnant when I was in high school and had had a baby back then. Surely that girl was too old to be her kid! But I graduated high school ELEVEN YEARS AGO!...and yes, that girl looked about right...and the GIRL looked like Emily! Ugh, how humiliating. Emily and I were not friends, but we were friendly, so I told Ma that if she ever crosses Emily again, to let her know I didn't recognize her there and I'm sorry. Cripes, this is why I usually just stare at the ground.

We went to the Artful Hand and then shopping...I hadn't eaten anything but a few cookies all that night and morning so I felt very weird, so hungry I didn't want to eat o_o but Ma looked ready to pass out so we went to Subway (in Wal-Mart). Where I neglected to order my own sandwich. I found a nice journal and the The Da Vinci Code soundtrack by Zimmer. I like the King Arthur soundtrack but figured with my luck I wouldn't like this one, but it's really good music, so I do like it. Zimmer is a good composer. No, I've never seen either movie and I don't care to. I just like Zimmer. There was a rainstorm while we were in Wal-Mart but it was done by the time we left, which didn't matter since as soon as we got home I had to take a bath and wash my hair anyway, I'd been sweating so much in the session, and my hair was ugh because it was time to wash it anyway. My schedule was all messed up...I was kind of zoned out for the rest of the night...even after a nap...after logging offline I listened to half of the soundtrack, stopped the CD and dozed off upright, then listened to the rest, tried to read, dozed off, zoned out, then came out here to try to write this and it's taken me about two hours and a lot of brain racking. >_< The next appointment isn't on a Friday, but it is at two PM. And I think right after it I have to see the PSYCHIATRIST again! I am so tired!!

And I think the bloodwork thing might be this Monday...cripes, I didn't think all this would be so INVOLVED! -_- I figured I would just see a therapist a few times and that would be it...

When we had our first rainstorm in weeks I went outside to check the mail and then just stood there getting soaked for about twenty minutes. I haven't gotten soaked in rain since high school...when I got caught in a storm with a friend I no longer have. I hate getting wet. I walked in puddles and looked up at the trees and water streamed down my hair and face and pooled in the collar of my coat. If anybody saw me they must have thought I was locked outside or something.

Mr. Bunting has returned to the porch. I wondered where he went.

I think I'm going to eat some jellybeans. :/